


Breaking Point

by FrozenInSpace



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cuddles, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, Triggers, i had to write it I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenInSpace/pseuds/FrozenInSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos has a very, very bad night. Afterwards, he starts to avoid the other three, until d'Artagnan decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: could be extremely triggering for people suffering from depression/ self-harm. As someone who can empathise completely with Athos, I would like to say that if you are struggling with anything mentioned in this fic then please,talk to someone you trust or get professional help.

Tonight, Athos just couldn't take it. 

The alcohol wasn't working. The attack today (an ambush in the woods just north of Paris) had left him rattled in a way like the others hadn't. Perhaps it had been the location, next to a field of forget-me-nots, every bloom a blue splash of pain to his already bleeding heart, or the way that he had almost died, a gun pointed to his temple, the bandit wielding the weapon an extremely simple man; he shouldn't have been able to get that close, but he had done....

Athos felt his breath begin to pant through him, hands shaking as he sank, deeper and deeper into the blessed oblivion that he so often welcomed, yet tonight it just refused to take him away. He found himself glad that he had decided to remain in his room tonight, away from the concerned looks shared by his....lovers, he supposed they were, even though that explained nothing of what they were to him; it was almost as if they were extensions of himself. 

But even so, he was alone right now. And there was one thing he'd done long ago, just before leaving for Paris.....but no, that was never good. But right now, he didn't care.   
Athos removed his shirt, fingers drunkenly tracing the white scars marring his otherwise pale skin, before raising his main gauche and gently pressing it into his side, against his ribs.....it hurt, but in a way that numbed him entirely; he felt borderline human, and he slept. 

Of course, it didn't remain just that. He ended up doing it multiple times a day, whenever he could, and he went deeper, almost to the point of needing stitches. His arms and stomach were covered by cuts in different stages of healing, and his uniform would rub against it, almost making him hiss in pain during fights. And the other three had realised something was going on.   
Athos, who had before always been willing to lie with them, to sleep in their arms, was suddenly avoiding them. He would say goodnight at the door, before heading to his own rooms, declining any offers of spending the night. At first, Aramis had suggested that perhaps he had found a woman, but they had followed him, and he would spend his evenings in his rooms, never leaving, closing his shutters and putting out the candle. So Porthos and Aramis amused themselves most nights, with d'Artagnan a willing participant when he wasn't entertaining the lovely Mme Bonacieux. 

However, d'Artagnan, the newest among them, was concerned by his oldest lover's sudden absence; he was aloof, distant, his humour complete gone and his body seeming to close in on itself, as if he were in constant pain. He was determined to bring his role model back to himself, and it all started with entering Athos' quarters, his mind set on one thing only. 

He knocked, not expecting Athos to open the door, yet tried to keep a straight face when he did. 

'd'Artagnan, I'm not well; it would do you well to let me be until I am recovered....'

'No, Athos, I'm not letting you isolate yourself, even if you are sick. You need someone to take care of you.' He let himself in, closing the door and the shutters, before looping his arms around the older man and pressing his lips to his mouth gently, not expecting the urgency and passion that Athos returned. d'Artagnan let himself completely surrender to the kiss, letting his mouth be taken over by Athos' tongue, feeling his mentor's hands roaming all over his shirt, trying to tug it out of his trousers. He gasped at the chill of his lover's fingers, before melting into him desperately, beginning to strip Athos of his leather armour, before the older man froze and tried to stop him. 

'd'Artagnan, please.....I'm not well.....'

'You were perfectly fine a minute ago. Athos, please, what is it? What aren't you telling us? You've even got Porthos frowning.' He returned to his task of trying to remove the leathers, this time succeeding, but he noticed small spots of something red- blood?- staining the cream fabric of the shirt beneath. 

'Athos, are you hurt?'

'No, I'm fine. Please, d'Artagnan.....don't do this....' But it was already too late. The shirt was halfway up, his many, many wounds revealed to the younger man, who stared at them with horror and.....empathy?

'Oh Athos.....did you do this to yourself?'

'Yes, I did. Now you see me for what I truly am, a truly broken man.'

'You are not broken, brother. Merely damaged. Now, let me get Aramis to see to these wounds. Then we'll discuss everything, do you understand?'

'No Aramis!'

'Athos please, accept our help. We love you, all of us. What do you think you are, a cheap lay at the end of the day? We're bound, Athos, as brothers and as lovers.'

'.....Alright then. Just please, don't judge me.'

'Never.'

With that, the younger man went to find the others. He went to Aramis' rooms, and after knocking found the two men lying on his bed, their mouths occupied with kissing and their hands occupied with touching each other. Porthos' mouth moved to Aramis' neck, and the man yelled out in Spanish, a mix of a prayer and an expletive that d'Artagnan had heard many times, ripped from Aramis at the height of his pleasure. He cleared his throat, both men looking up, flustered and almost irritated. 

'What is it, mon petit?' Porthos could read the boys face. 

'Yes, querida, please tell us what troubles you.'

'It's Athos. He's....he's been hurting himself. His chest is covered in cuts and I don't know what to do and I'm scared-'

'Whoa, whoa, slow down. You say Athos has been hurting himself....intentionally?'

'Exactly.'

'Well, we'd better get to the bottom of this, hadn't we?' The men redressed and left the room, heading directly for Athos. They found him sat in his room, staring into space. 

'Athos, brother.....are you with us?'

'Barely.....why would you even want me around?'

'Because we love....you're part of all of us. Why.....why would you hurt yourself, Athos? The dangers involved with any injury.....'

'Aramis, please; he needs help, not a lecture.'

'Yes, yes, of course. Take his shirt off. I need to see the damage.'

Of course, none of them were expecting the damage that had appeared in only a few short weeks. 

'My God! Athos....why didn't you talk to us instead of doing this?'

'I wasn't thinking.'

'Well, I can see that. Most of these are alright to heal alone, but there's a few that I want to make sure don't fester. Athos, why didn't you tell us things were this bad?'

'I didn't want to worry you.'

'Oh Athos, brother, we'll always worry about you. That's what love is.'

Aramis pulled the man into a hug, before cradling his head and pressing his lips into his hair. 'Please, I know it's hard, but never do this to yourself again, for all of us. We love you too much to let you do this. Also, your spot in the bed is cold.'

'Okay, I'll.....I'll try. I......I can't say it, but you know how I feel about all of you.'

'And you know how we feel about you.' The bed creaked under the pressure of four bodies, and as soon as Athos' wounds were dressed, the four of them lay on the bed together, all wrapping their bodies around their leader, until he felt safe and warm enough to sleep. 

Porthos pressed his face into d'Artagnan's bare shoulder, before whispering to him gently, 'he'll be okay, trust me. He's got all of us to help him through it.'

And with that, Porthos pressed a kiss into d'Artagnan's neck and they all fell asleep, waking with the sun the next morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Querida: sweetheart


End file.
